


Skinny Defenseless Weapon

by AngelCuttingOnions



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Brainwashing, Dark Stiles Stilinski, Kidnapping, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multiple Personalities, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-04-05 06:52:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19043386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelCuttingOnions/pseuds/AngelCuttingOnions
Summary: Noah Stilinski is dead. The pack abandoned Stiles. The boy left his hometown as soon as he could, but someone wanted him. Not for his connection to the pack, no. They wanted his Spark, so they took it. They took it and they turned him into a weapon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you’d like to see this continued? It’s just something I was messing around with but I’m kind of liking it. 
> 
> If you want to see more, let me know, and I’ll update the tags to show what I have planned for it.

Waking up in a cold damp room strapped to a table was not how Stiles planned to spend his weekend. Everything around him was dull, grey, and lit by flickering fluorescent lights that made his eyes hurt. There was one door, no windows. There were two other people in the room with him, one looking to be a scientist of some sort, the other he wasn't sure about. He was wearing all black, and was standing there unmoving. 

The scientist looking one picked up a syringe and started walking towards him. Stiles inhaled sharply as the needle was pressed into his arm. The scientist finished taking blood and took a step back. The one wearing all black stepped forward. "Mieczysław Stilinski we've been watching you."

"Oh lovely, kidnappers who can pronounce my name, I appreciate that, I do, but what the fuck dude." Stiles kept his eyes on the man watching him. While he was focusing on him, he didn't notice the scientist come back towards him, this time with a loaded syringe. His gaze snapped downward as it was pushed into his arm, the scientist injecting some form of blue liquid into him. 

"We have plans for you, the boy who ran with the wolves." 

Stiles blinked. "Plans. Amazing. I hope you realize I'm not in a pack anymore, so I'd highly recommend you kidnap someone they give a shit about." 

The man in black smiled like the words amused him. "That's exactly why we want you, Mieczysław. Your father is dead. Your pack abandoned you. You have no one, no one to come when you call, no one who will look for you. You are alone, Mieczysław." 

"Ah. So, wanna tell me what I'm in for so I can get comfy?"

"Don't worry Mieczysław, you won't have to worry about anything." 

"Ominous much-" He was cut off as his vision started going dark and he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. 

***

They called him the Spark. He knew no other name. He was a machine, a weapon. He had abilities to use for his missions. If he did well, they let him sleep, rarely, very rarely, they'd bring him books. If he failed, he was punished. He failed once, he learned quickly never to do it again. The missions to start with were simple. Trial runs. Find an object. Protect an agent. As more days passed, they got more difficult. 

His first human target was a man named Allen Blackwood. He was given only three bits of information. He was an agent working his way inside Hydra, and he had to be taken out by that Thursday. The last bit was the file they had on the man. If the Spark failed his mission, he would be punished. Compliance would be rewarded. Failure would be punished. Compliance is rewarded. Disobedience is punished. He would be happy to comply. The target was taken out on Wednesday. 

*** 

**Target: Lynn McDaniel**

**Objective: Eliminate**

The Spark focused his power into his left hand. It would be enough to disable the target. It was timed perfectly. Once he made contact, he'd focus his powers into the point of contact. It would look like nothing more than a heart attack. He walked towards the target, looking at the phone in his right hand. He bumped into the target, causing her to stumble. "I'm so sorry miss!" He steadied her, placing his left hand where her neck met her shoulder. 

She smiled at him and the Spark froze. Hazel eyes. Strawberry blonde hair. "It's okay, better watch where you're going though." Stiles blinked twice. "Are you alright sir?" The Spark shook his head to clear it, pushed the magic into her and walked away. He didn't look back as he heard her collapse. 

***

"You hesitated." The Spark looked at the man in black, known to him as Wave. He was back in his room, a small area, with a bed, and the few books they'd given him if he did especially well. Most of them were to help train his abilities. Others were a few unrelated ones such as Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. The Spark thought they were interesting, yet lacking in their information about magic. 

“I eliminated the target.”

“You haven’t hesitated like that since we first found you _Spark_.” He spat the word with distaste. Like it was meant to be demeaning, perhaps humiliating. Wave shook his head at the Spark and started gathering the books scattered around the room. “You do that again, I burn these.” 

“Sir.” Any protests he could think of died instantly. He would comply. 

***

This continued on for well over a year. The Spark was Hydra’s weapon. Their tool. The day it ended wasn’t because anyone came to rescue him. It wasn’t because the man he formerly was fought his way to the front. It was because of _it._ One tiny piece of that _thing_ from when the man he used to be was a child. The Demon. 

It didn’t like being told what to do. 

***

Wave stood over the Spark as he was strapped to the table. He was about to be rewritten, they didn’t like the personality he’d developed since the last time. Too many opinions. Too much free will. Something inside the Spark snapped. He liked free will. Wave watched as the weapon they had beep perfecting for the past year crumbled in front of him. His eyes darkened, and before they could start the rewriting process, electricity sparked in his veins. The straps holding him in place were snapped, a hand reached out and crushed the windpipe of the closest scientist. The Spark let Wave run. _It_ wanted him for last. 

It made its way down hallways, leaving no room untouched. It didn’t stop until no more blood could be shed. Agents and scientists were ripped apart, had their necks snapped, or had electricity poured into their bodies. It allowed one to escape, only because Mieczysław begged. It was a young child with powers much like their own, untrained, but Hydra wanted to break him in before he could form his own opinions. When it reached Wave, a grin made its way onto their face. _“Are you proud of us? What we’ve become?”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna be honest I have no plan for this so we’re gonna see what happens I guess? Also sorry it took so long to publish the second chapter, I rewrote it quite a few times.
> 
> This will be obvious later on, but this is an alternate universe, one where the Winter Soldier was yoinked by S.H.I.E.L.D before Steeb knew of his existence.

It was only after everyone had been slaughtered that anyone came to "rescue" him. _It_ wanted to feel the last heartbeat, the very last breath Wave took. It had pulled his heart out with it’s hands. It felt the heartbeat slow and stop in it’s bare hands, then crushed it, casting it aside. They were standing alone in a pool of red, blood dripping down their hands, he wasn't sure how long he'd been there. He was Stiles now, he thought. For the moment at least. 

A man with dark hair and a metallic arm kicked his way into the room, a woman with bright red hair directly behind him. They spoke to each other in Russian as they assessed the room. Stiles only picked up that they were talking about them, and something about if there were any survivors. The Spark tilted their head. "You're him. Their pet Soldier. You're their favorite toy." 

The Soldier's gaze snapped instantly over to them. "Was this you?"

"This was done with my hands, yes." 

“Your hands maybe, but this wasn’t you.” The woman with red hair looked the younger man up and down before continuing. "You're going to need to come with us."

Stiles nodded in agreement. " _It_ didn’t like being a prisoner. What's today's date?" It had been thirteen months since he'd been taken. 

***

The agents that came pouring in all seemed to think he was traumatized. Like he hadn't seen this same thing again and again as he grew up in Beacon Hills. He let them believe he was. He was guided away from the scattered bodies and to a vehicle outside, where someone had given him a sweatshirt to replace his bloodstained hoodie. It said S.H.I.E.L.D on the front. 

He was guided into a black SUV, and they kept driving until they reached some kind of base. From there he was brought to a medical room, where he was held on lockdown. Apparently someone somewhere thought he was a danger. _It_ decided they could escape if they tried hard enough. Stiles pushed that feeling down. Several blood tests were completed before declaring them "100% human" which they silently scoffed at. Someone asked him a series of questions, if he had any family, anyone who was looking for him. Did he know who had taking him. Did "it" leave any survivors. Was he held there against his will. 

No. Yes. One. Then he hesitated. Was he held against his will? He honestly didn't know. He didn't like it there, but the only one they were threatening was him. He didn't have to do what they told him. He wasn't- he wasn't worth saving compared to what they made him do. The person questioning him was quickly ushered out of the room as his breathing and pulse picked up speed. He felt dizzy, his chest was tight. Someone else shoved their way into the room, pushing everyone else out. 

He was pretty sure they were saying something but couldn't make out what. By the time he'd forced himself to calm down, the Spark had taken over. That was interesting, traumatic shit made their personality shift. He should research that when he wasn't being interrogated or feeling like his lungs were about to well, explode. And actually had access to something besides a heart monitor and some assorted medical equipment. 

Technically they should have thought more about leaving a former assassin in a room with so many assorted sharp pointy things but well... not everyone had their brain. The Spark laughed as Stiles barreled through their thoughts. Laughing. The Spark hadn't done that before. Eventually they focused on the person they'd sent into the room to help them calm down, which they could do themselves thank you very much. It was the archer from the raid. He'd been with the Soldier and the Black Widow. 

"Back with us?"

The Spark nodded, face blank. 

"So that's a sort of? I know there's well... a couple of you in there. You weren't the one being questioned. Something triggered a panic attack, and you took over, am I right?" When the archer got no answer, he continued talking. "No one asked you your name. Names? Which is stupid. I'm Clint. Clint Barton. And you are?" He stuck out his hand for the Spark to shake. 

"I could pour electricity into your veins with a single touch. Or stop your heart. Perhaps rip out your organs." 

"Neat! But that's not a name Mr. Doom and Gloom." The man was either an idiot, had no self preservation skills, or was extremely confident in his skills. Possibly a combination of the three. "You sound too much like James."

"They called me the Spark. You're Hawkeye." 

"Yep! So Sparky, what's the kid's name?" It was as if nothing phased the man. It reminded the Spark of Stiles, the memories that came flooding in when it broke them free. He wasn't sure if he should give the man Stiles' name. Although if their systems were as advanced as he assumed they were, they probably had facial recognition software that was looking for him as they spoke.

The agent suddenly pulled out a tablet and started scrolling through something, confirming the Spark's assumption. "Whoo that name's a doozy. Preferred name Stiles, mother died when he was ten, father died three years ago from a wild animal attack." The Spark scoffed. "No known living relatives, no one looking for him, multiple run-ins with the law starting at age fifteen." 

He knew that already. The Spark rolled his eyes at the man and leaned back in his cot. It was surprisingly more comfortable than anything he'd slept on for the past year. "If you find information that's actually useful to you, let us know."

***

The Spark got bored lounging around with nothing to do. He didn't have to await orders, there was no reason for him to be there. He pushed a bit of magic into the monitors surrounding him, enough so he could disconnect himself without raising suspicion. Next, he shorted out the door, and walked out of the room. This place clearly didn't have enough security. He wandered around the halls, and they eventually led him to a cafeteria. He wondered how long it would be before someone noticed he was in there. 

Enough time for him to get a meal and have a seat at an abandoned table apparently. Then eat said meal. Then walk out of the cafeteria and barely stop himself from running into the Winter Soldier. The man's face was... generally blank. 

_It_ raised an eyebrow at the Soldier, and the Soldier mirrored the expression. It smirked, and took off. 

Agents quickly sidestepped as if this sort of thing happened all the time. It was enjoying the chase. It hadn't played a game in such a long time. It could have used their magic but it was having so much fun without it. It and the Spark made a decision. If the Soldier, the Widow, and Hawkeye could stop them from leaving, they would humor Stiles for the time being and stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _It_ , the Spark, and Stiles shall all be explained in a later chapter. But I will just say it has to do with magic.
> 
> See also: you’re a writer and you have no idea what the hell you’re doing? Blame magic!
> 
> I’m kidding don’t worry, I sorta know what I’m doing. ish.


End file.
